


Don't Judge a Punk by Their Jacket

by setepenre_set



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: F/M, High School AU, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7438911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megamind and Roxanne, talking together at a high school dance. It’s cold outside and he gives her his spiked leather jacket to wear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Judge a Punk by Their Jacket

The double doors of the gymnasium slam open, and Megamind looks up in surprise as Roxanne Ritchi, wearing a dark blue gown and a thunderous scowl, steps out into the night.

Her eyes fall on him and she stops for a moment, expression going frozen, and Megamind feels his shoulders wanting to tense, wanting to curve in protectively.

(Of course she doesn’t feel comfortable, being out here with him, alone. Of course.)

He straightens his shoulders deliberately, beneath his jacket of leather and spikes, readying himself to straighten up from his leaning-against-the-wall stance.

(He should go. He’ll go.)

To his surprise, though, Roxanne’s expression suddenly firms up again, into something focused and fierce and intent, and she strides over towards him.  
(towards him. to him. why would she–)

“Can I hang out with you?” she asks, tone abrupt, and Megamind isn’t–really sure what to do with that, what to do with the anger simmering beneath her words, what to do with the fact that the anger, oddly enough, doesn’t seem to be directed at him.

“Uh,” he says, “um. S-sure.” He clears his throat, tries a one-shouldered shrug that is meant to be cool, but is probably just awkward (god, why is he so stupidly socially inept–Roxanne actual Ritchi is speaking to him, voluntarily speaking to him, asking if she can spend time with him–come on, Megamind, for once in your life, please manage not to be a complete fuck-up)

“Plenty of wall to go around,” he says, and she flashes a tight little smile, as if that might actually have been funny, before leaning against the wall beside him.

For a long moment, they stand in silence, the only sound that of the muffled music coming through the gymnasium wall (Megamind’s heart is beating so hard that it’s difficult to make himself believe that she can’t hear it, too). The yellow lamp above the gym doors casts a soft glow over Roxanne’s features, catching in her hair like moonlight on dark water, making the silver spangles on her dress dance and shine like starlight.

“You don’t like to dance?” Roxanne asks, and Megamind jerks back to himself, hoping she didn’t notice the way he was staring at her.

“To–?”

“You’re out here,” she says, “instead of inside. Is it because you don’t like to dance?”

He smiles, bitter and crooked.

“I love to dance,” he says, and her eyes widen as though he’s just said something incredibly surprising (what is so–? what has he gotten wrong this time? too enthusiastic? guys-don’t-dance? guys-don’t-admit-to-liking-things?)

“It just–dancing by yourself gets a little–” _depressing_. _embarrassing_. _disheartening_. “–boring.”

“How come you didn’t bring Minion?” Roxanne asks. “You usually–”

Megamind blinks at her–she’s noticed that? (Oh, come on, Megamind, don’t read into it; a giant-headed blue alien and a fish in a mechanical suit aren’t exactly unobtrusive. Of course she’s noticed.)

“Minion isn’t technically a student,” Megamind says, lip curling. “I was–warned by our oh-so-intelligent superintendent that pets are not appropriate companions to school dances.”

“Pets?!” Roxanne actually sounds outraged; Megamind’s heart flares, hot and bright, in his chest. “What a–what an idiotic asshole!”

“Yes, thank you!” he says, gesturing, two handed, turning towards her (she turns to face him as well). “Do you know what he said? He said ‘we can’t have students thinking they can put their dog in a dress and call it their date’.”

Roxanne makes an angry hissing noise.

“You should have brought him anyway,” she says.

“I wanted to,” Megamind says, making a face, “but Minion isn’t quite as–willing to make waves as I am.”

_(just leave it, Sir; you go ahead; no sense in getting expelled over something so silly)_

“Barring Minion’s cooperation,” he continues, “I wanted to borrow someone’s dog, but unfortunately Uncle Bill’s pitbull had a prior engagement.”

Roxanne laughs, loud and startled, throwing her head back.

“That’s too bad,” she says, “I could have loaned her one of my old doll dresses.”

Megamind laughs, too, a surprised sound, spilling out into the night air.

Roxanne shivers.

“You’re cold,” Megamind blurts out, and then wants to kick himself because wow, genius, great observation: she’s wearing a sleevless chiffon gown and it’s October; of course she’s cold.

“—here,” he says, sliding the leather jacket off of his shoulders and holding it out to her.

Her eyes go wide, and he thinks–

(shit; of course she doesn’t want to wear your jacket—fucking moron, always—)

But—then—

She steps closer, turns her back to him, holding out one arm—what is—she—she wants him to—

He helps her on with the jacket, his heart hammering in his chest, his throat.

Her hair, shining and brown and down to the middle of her back, gets caught in the spikes of the shoulders. She lifts it up, sweeps it to one side, over one shoulder, exposing the back of her neck to his gaze for a moment—Megamind shudders, looks away, blushing.

“Thanks,” she says softly, turning back to him, fingers twisting in her own hair, and Megamind, feeling lightheaded and unbelievably brave, reaches out and brushes the few strands she’s missed forward, careful not to let his fingertips touch skin.

Roxanne—blushes, he thinks? But it’s hard to tell, beneath the yellow half-light of the lamp, might just be a trick of the shadows, of his own wishful thinking.

(He still has his hand on her hair. He should take his hand away now, he thinks, but god, her hair is so soft)

“I—I’ve been thinking about cutting it,” Roxanne says, voice higher, faster than it usually is, “—my hair, I mean. I—” she makes a face. “It gets caught in everything.”

“—how short?” Megamind asks, as wildly curious as he would have been if she had told him she’d discovered the secret to crossing into parallel dimensions.

(everything about her is utterly fascinating, and he feels rather as if they _have_ crossed into a parallel dimension—)

Roxanne laughs awkwardly, makes another face.

“Really short,” she says, “like, uh—pixie cut short.”

He frowns, not understanding the terminology, and she raises her hands to her own head, fingers combing through her hair, stopping to hold it out, hands a few inches from the roots.

“—like, that short,” she says.

Megamind feels his eyes go wide. She—with her hair that short, her neck would be visible all of the time—oh god.

“Wow,” he says, kind of breathless, “that. That would be. Um. Really. Uh. Cool. Yes. You—yes.”

Roxanne does blush, then, vividly enough that he can tell it’s not his imagination, and she smiles at him, shy and pleased.

“You know, you’re the first person who’s said that?” she says.

“Seriously?” Megamind shakes his head. “Clearly, the people you usually hang around with have no understanding of cool.”

Roxanne bites her lip, smiling at him.

“Not like you,” she says—is that a teasing tone? She’s—being sarcastic? But—not in a cruel way, not like people usually—?

“ _Tcha_ ,” Megamind says, rolling his eyes and popping the collar of the jacket that Roxanne is wearing with shaking hands—his jacket. _His_ _jacket_ _that_ _Roxanne_ _is_ _wearing_ , _oh_ _god_. “I am clearly the epi-tome of cool!” He flaps a hand at himself, an exaggerated motion, and Roxanne snickers.

“Standing alone outside of a high shool gym at two minutes ’til twelve,” he continues, letting his voice rise overdramatically, “—can’t even get a date with a dog in a dress! _Sooo_ cool.”

“It always catches me off-guard,” Roxanne says, laughing again, “how _funny_ you are.”

Megamind startles, feels himself flush. Funny? She thinks he’s—that’s good, right? Funny is good? Unless she means—

“Don’t you like to dance?” he asks, not wanting to pursue that line of thought any further.

Roxanne blinks at him.

“I—I mean,” he says, “earlier, you asked—me. Why I was out here, if I didn’t like to—so I was wondering—”

“No, I do,” she says, eyes shifting sideways, away from his, and he steps back from her. Clearly he has—said something wrong, made her uncomfortable.

“I liked working with you on the chemistry project,” Roxanne says abruptly, and Megamind frowns slightly at the sudden subject change. Has he—missed a step in this conversation? A connecting thread between—

“I liked being partners with you,” she continues, still not looking at him. “I’d like to—I’d like to do that again. Not just in chemistry. We—share most of our other classes, too, so I was wondering if—if maybe you wanted to. Be each other’s—default? Partners? I mean—” she laughs, twists her fingers in her hair, glances at him and then away again. “Obviously you’re smart enough to have your pick of—anyone you want for—but. I really. I had fun. With you. And—and I thought maybe you had fun, too? Sorry, this is probably—really weird and awkward and kind of—”

“Yes,” Megamind says, and then backpedals quickly when she grimaces, “I mean—not—not _yes_ to this being awkward, I—it’s. That’s probably not your fault; everything gets—exponentially more awkward when I’m involved and—”

Roxanne laughs, and Megamind wants to hold the sound close to his chest, wants to hold this moment close and keep it with him forever.

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, “I would—yes, partners. I would like to be partners. With you. I’m just—I am extremely confused about—why would you want to be partners with me? I mean. I—our project. It. Kind of exploded?”

Roxanne grins at him, sudden and wide and slightly feral, and Megamind—sort of swoons a little. If he’s honest, here.

“I know,” she says, “it was _fun_.”

Fun. Oh god. This is. She’s too—how is she so—

“ _You’re_ fun,” she says, “and I—”

“I almost got us suspended,” Megamind says faintly.

Roxanne scowls.

“I know,” she says, “and it was—bullshit, really, Wayne grabbing you like that, and then nobody listening to you about it being an accident until I spoke up. It was— _not_ _fair_. The way people treat you, Megamind, it’s—it’s _not_ _right_.”

Megamind’s eyes are wide, fixed on Roxanne’s face.

She’s. She’s serious. She really thinks—

She gives an unhappy laugh, mouth turning down.

“That’s kind of why I’m out here,” she says.

Megamind gives her a confused look and she sighs, rakes a hand through her hair, light dancing over the brown strands.

“Somebody said something about you, and I sort of—went off on them. Loudly. Comprehensively. Publicly. Please don’t be mad.”

“M-mad?” Megamind stammers, “why—why in the name of Rosalind Franklin would I be _mad_?”

“You know,” Roxanne says, “the whole—macho, I-don’t-need-a-girl-to-protect-me. Thing.”

“You yelled at somebody for me?” Megamind asks, feeling—like the whole world is softer, somehow, and brighter, and better than it was a moment ago.

Roxanne, looking at his face, relaxes, smiling.

“Yeah,” she says, fingertips on the corner of the collar of his leather jacket, thumb rubbing over the spikes. “Yeah, I did.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” Megamind says, unable to stop the—probably extremely ridiculous—smile from spreading over his face. “Who was it; what did you say; I’ll bet it was _glorious_!”

Roxanne bites her lip, smile sharpening into something almost wicked.

“It was Wayne, actually,” she says, and Megamind makes a noise of sheer glee. “And I can’t—remember all of it, exactly, but I started by insulting his intelligence, personal appearance, and morals, and sort of—went on from there. The phrase ‘self-involved, narcissistic goody-two-shoes with no concept of critical thinking’ was—definitely involved at some point.”

Megamind throws his head back and laughs delightedly.

When he gets himself under control again, Roxanne is looking at him, gaze intent, still smiling that sharp, dangerous smile. Megamind shivers slightly.

“Are you cold?” Roxanne asks, eyes going wide, hand going up again to touch the collar of the jacket she’s wearing.

“No, my—internal temperature is—a few degrees lower than the ideal human temperature,” Megamind says, and then, because he’s still feeling a bit giddy, reckless and indestructible the knowledge that Roxanne yelled at someone—at Wayne!—for him!—he adds teasingly, smirking at her, “but we could still stand closer to conserve body heat anyway, if you wanted.”

Roxanne laughs, and then, incredibly, impossibly, does step closer to him, puts her arms around his shoulders.

Megamind makes—a really undignified noise of shock, freezing for a moment, arms awkwardly at his sides, and then he reaches up and wraps his arms hesitantly beneath the jacket, around her back, holding her lightly.

Her dress dips down in the back; his hands end up on her bare skin. He feels her shiver in response.

“S-sorry,” he says, “like I said—uh. Lower body temperature. I’m always—going to feel cold. To you. If you, uh. Ever touch me again. Wh-which I’m not saying I expect! Obviously! But—”

Roxanne laughs and tightens her arms around him. The spikes on the elbow patches dig into his skin, slightly uncomfortably, but he is so entirely past caring about that.

“—Roxanne?” he says uncertainly, a thought occurring. “Are we—do you want to be friends? With—with me?”

She goes still, stiff in his arms—shit; that was too much to ask for, too much to expect—

“Friends,” she says, voice a little uneven around the edges.

“It’s okay!” Megamind says quickly. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. That was—I shouldn’t have—I really don’t expect—”

Roxanne lets her arms slide from around his neck, hands going to his shoulders instead; Megamind gets ready to let her go when she steps away.

But—but she doesn’t step away. She stands there, just as close to him, but looking into his face now, expression serious. She bites her lip.

“Megamind, I—okay,” she says, “this is. Maybe going to be really weird, but I’m kind of getting the idea that you’re not—really understanding what I’m trying to—okay. I. Would like to be friends with you, yes, but—”

( _But_. There’s always a _but_. Megamind braces himself for the excuse, for the— _I just don’t think that would work; you’re too—_ )

“But,” Roxanne says, taking a deep breath, “see. Megamind, I—I kind of want to _date_ _you_.”

Megamind feels his mouth fall open.

“And if you don’t want to, that’s fine!” Roxanne says quickly, “I still want to be friends with you, even if you don’t like me like that, and—”

Megamind kisses her.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing—at all, really. Insofar as he’s planning any of this, he’s planning on just brushing their lips together quickly. But Roxanne makes a startled, pleased noise and presses into the kiss, hand moving to grip the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward (like she’s worried he’s going to step away _now_ , like she thinks there’s something else in the universe he’d rather do than kiss her—god, she has no idea, no idea how desperately he’s wanted this).

He lets her lead, lets _her_ kiss _him_ , focuses on mirroring her, and that must be a pretty good approach, because when she pulls away, some time later, she looks flushed and sort of flustered.

“ _Wow_ ,” she says.

Megamind, kiss-dazed, makes a noise of agreement, then takes hold of the collar of the jacket she’s wearing–his jacket–and, carefully, mindful of the spikes, pulls her gently back into another kiss.

Roxanne laughs against his mouth and kisses him again.


End file.
